


Between Stolen Glances

by Thirivm



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Micah Bell is an ass but what else is new, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-02 04:33:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16779664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thirivm/pseuds/Thirivm
Summary: You were never really sure what it was about Arthur that initially drew you to him.It might’ve been the fact that he’d been the first to offer his aid when the gang found you deep in the woods, running from a small pack of O'Driscolls that you’d just robbed blind. Or maybe it was learning that below that gruff, sarcastic layer he was honestly a good man who cared strongly about the people around him.His rugged good-looks certainly didn’t hurt your opinion of him any, but it had been the kind of man he was that really caught your eye.





	1. She Looks At Him..

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie I'm a bit nervous about posting this. Definitely not my first fic, but this is my first venture into the world of reader-inserts!
> 
> Edit: Went through and did a little more editing, mostly adding some more lines in so hopefully it flows better now.

* * *

You had your doubts at first but the people you’d been saved by, the ones that called themselves the Van der Linde gang, they were decent folk. Or at least, most of them were as decent as anyone living this kind of lifestyle could be. You certainly liked some of them more than others, Charles and Mary-Beth in particular made for good company after a long day, and young Jack was always eager to sit by your feet and listen to some stories while you cleaned and maintained your various weapons, but you’d learned long ago that every pack always came with a vicious mongrel or two.

The mongrel of this pack was definitely one Micah Bell, and you’ve opted to just leave the camp rather than endure the sight of his leering face and crude comments more times than you can count. You’re not sure if he suffers from a severe lack of social skills or if he’s just an asshole, but he seemed to favor pestering you more than anyone else, and you’ve learned that even sitting alone in the middle of the woods is preferable to tolerating his company.

Tonight seemed to be no exception. The gang was halfway through dinner and Micah hadn't shut his mouth once since you'd joined them at the table, ignoring both Hosea and John's frequent demands for him to shut up so you could eat in peace. He wasn't going to stop, not while he could see that he was getting a rise out of you, and your appetite was rapidly waning. A shame really, you'd been eager for this venison stew all day, but nothing spoiled a good time like an aggravating man.

Eventually, enough is enough.

You toss your nearly-empty bowl of stew on the ground before you stride away from the table, hoping that one of the nearby hounds will be quick finish it off before Miss Grimshaw could see and start scolding you for the ‘waste’, and you huff under your breath when you can hear Micah still making jeering comments as you retreat. You also hear John distantly cussing Micah out, and you take some mild satisfaction in knowing that most of the gang was on your side in this.

One of these days someone was going to finally punch that sneer right off of Micah’s filthy face, and you inwardly prayed that you were around to see it. Hell, it might even be you that did it if he didn’t learn to stop grating on your damn nerves every day.

The woods are blissfully quiet compared to the camp, aside from the occasional varmint scampering by and the fading sound of the horses in the distance.

Lenny's on watch duty tonight and you give him a nod of greeting as you pass by, only stopping to assure him that you weren’t going out too far on your own when you see the hint of concern in his eyes, before you keep heading down the familiar dirt paths.

You’re still within earshot of the camp and you’ve got a loaded pistol strapped to your holster, but you have to admit that it’s a little nice to know that you’ve got good folk out here who were looking out for you, ones that genuinely cared about your well-being.

The home you’d left behind had been everything but warm and welcoming, and your brothers couldn't even gave you the time of day without it somehow escalating into an argument. They were jerks, thick-headed and stubborn, and constantly refusing to take your advice despite being older and more knowledgeable than most of them. You blamed your Pa for that; he'd always had a crude opinion about a woman's place in this world and had unfortunately passed that way of thinking onto his sons before he died.

Things had just gotten even worse after your mother joined your father six feet under, and without Ma around to defuse the constant tension, it just wasn’t worth sticking around for anymore. Let your idiot brothers run Pa’s ranch into the ground if they wanted to, if they hadn't already. They’d all stopped being your problem years ago.

Great.. Thinking of your family had just agitated you even further than Micah already had and unfortunately, unlike your brothers, that asshole Micah would still be there as soon as you returned to camp, no doubt eager to get back on your nerves until finally Dutch had to intervene.

“Prick..” you mutter aloud as the path eventually leads you to the small creek that cuts across the trail, and you lean back against the closest tree before the soft of sound rustling of clothes to your right makes you tense up.

“That directed at me?” A familiar voice drawls, and you relax upon seeing that it’s just Arthur Morgan, sitting on an old log with his journal resting on his knee. You hadn’t realized he was back from his latest bounty hunt yet when he didn't show up for dinner, but judging by the sorry state of his clothes and the amount of weapons still strapped to his body he must’ve only just returned. Probably seeking a few more moments alone before going back to the gang, just like you. You couldn't blame him; the gang was a family, but even they could be too much at times.

“Micah.” You reply curtly in lieu of a proper response, the agitation still heavy in your tone, and you see Arthur’s expression soften into one of understanding, and maybe even a hint of annoyance that matched your own. Most of the gang insisted that you’d get used to Micah and his mouth eventually, but Arthur was one of the few to just speak up and say that the guy was just an asshole. Loyal and a decent fighter, maybe, but an asshole nonetheless.

“Want me to go kick his ass for you?” Arthur offers and it prompts a short laugh from you, though you’re positive that he’s not even joking. As much as you'd love to see it, you shake your head before Arthur finds it in himself to just wander up and fight Micah anyway. He never really seemed to need a legitimate reason to set Micah straight, after all.

“He ain’t worth getting riled up for.” you reply, eventually walking over to settle down onto the log beside Arthur. He watches you but offers up no protests to you joining him, though you notice that he’s quick to snap his journal shut. You don’t see much beyond glimpsing the beginnings of a new sketch – it looks like a young woman – but you don’t pry despite your curiosity.

You found that Arthur preferred to share things at his own pace, and since he likewise never prodded you for personal information you weren’t willing to divulge yet the least you did was offer him up the same courtesy. Besides, he actually had let you flip through his journal before to admire the sketches, even the nice ones that he openly disliked for some reason, and that seemed to be something that he didn’t let just anyone do. It had felt.. unexpectedly nice.

Then again, according to Tilly and Karen, Arthur was 'unexpectedly nice' to you in many ways.

He’d taken to you faster than he had any other newcomer in a long while, if their whispered words were to be believed, and you couldn’t deny that he seemed to spend more time with you than he did anyone else, excluding maybe Dutch himself. You often hunted together, scouted together, and both looked after the women when they wanted to go into the nearby towns.

Whenever Dutch sent him on a high-stakes mission you were always one of the first that Arthur requested to have by his side. It was because you knew the lands and you were a damn good shot, he’d said once when he’d opted to take you on a scouting job instead of Bill or Micah, much to the joint annoyance of the two men, and yeah, maybe Arthur was just being practical but you’d definitely had a strut in your step over the next few days.

“So,” you eventually speak up again, facing the man beside you as he tucks his journal back into his satchel and retrieves a small silver flask in its place. “How’d your hunting trip go? Bag anything exotic?”

Arthur lets out a soft snort of amusement, taking a long swig from the flask and nearly coughs from the burn of whatever it is he’s drinking. “Over and done now. Hate it when they try to run though, leadin’ me all over them damn hills, but at least the camp’s forty dollars richer for it.”

“Not a bad haul, Mr. Morgan.” you reply, a hint of a smile on your face that matches the one on his own. Though it technically wasn’t official, with the rest of the gang not even knowing about it, you and Arthur had decided to make a bit of a game out of seeing who could catch the most lucrative bounty by the end of the year.

Arthur was currently winning, having brought down an infamous cattle rustler with a whopping hundred dollar payout shortly after the game began. He'd thought his victory already assured but then you’d brought in an eighty-five dollar reward less than a week after that by capturing the leader of a rising bandit gang, just to let Arthur know that you weren’t one to be underestimated, not even by him.

You’d only been with the Van der Linde gang for a few weeks then, but it was very satisfying to see the looks on some of their faces when you put that prize into the camp funds, especially since you’d also brought back a few crates of ammo and canned goods along with it. Spoils of war, or rather, spoils of raiding the hideout after the rest of the bandits abandoned their hog-tied leader.

In any case, that job had certainly put a stop to the older men’s worries that they’d picked up some freeloader with another mouth to feed when they saved you. But more importantly, it had earned you some respect for the first time in a long while.

Maybe not from everyone, as Micah and occasionally Uncle liked to prove, but honestly their opinions weren’t the ones that you really valued. You wanted to really earn your place among the gang, to justify the way that Dutch and Hosea had defended their decision to take you in so soon after the chaos of Blackwater, and you especially wanted to prove yourself to Arthur.

Why him? Well.. You were never really sure what it was about Arthur that initially drew you to him.

It might’ve been the fact that he’d been the first to offer his aid when the gang found you deep in the woods, running from a small pack of O'Driscolls that you’d just robbed blind. Or maybe it was learning that below that gruff, sarcastic layer he was honestly a good man who cared strongly about the people around him.

His rugged good-looks certainly didn’t hurt your opinion of him any, but it had been the kind of man he was that really caught your eye.

Sure, by the Law’s definition he wasn’t the ‘good’ kind of man. He’s probably robbed and killed more people than he’s helped in his life but you couldn’t honestly say that you were much better. Despite how much people claimed that the West was becoming tamed and civilized, not a day went by without death and violence around these parts.

A person couldn’t live out here without getting their hands dirty with either soil or blood and, well, some folks just weren’t destined to become farmers, including you.

You’ve cheated and killed men when you had to, fought and conned your way out of a noose or a prison cell more times than you cared to recall, but even outlaws could live by a code, and as long as innocent civilians were kept out of the crosshairs then you’d stay with this gang, and with Arthur, who was a damn good man in spite of his constant insistence otherwise.

“So, that mean you don't want a sip?"

Arthur’s voice suddenly derails your latest train of thought, and you blink back into focus to see him holding the flask out towards you with a hint of amusement in his eyes. Had he been talking to you this entire time? Damn, you must’ve zoned out..

“That any good?” you ask but take the flask and swallow down a mouthful before he even has time to answer, and you hear his laughter ringing out beside you when you nearly choke and spit the burning liquid back out. You’d been expecting whiskey. That was _not_ whiskey. “What’n the hell is that?!”

“Navy rum, courtesy of Mr. Pearson,” Arthur replies as he takes the flask back, and you cough again as he throws back another mouthful, his nose briefly wrinkling with disgust. “Kicks like a damn mule but it’s all we got 'til someone gets into town tomorrow.”

“I’ll raid an O'Driscoll hideout alone before I drink anymore of that,” you grouse with a shake of your head, voice a bit raw after downing such a drink, and Arthur tucks the flask away with another soft chuckle. That makes you smile to yourself, at least. It’s such a warm but rare sound, hearing Arthur Morgan laugh. You love it and could honestly listen to it all day, but like Hell you’d ever let anyone find that out.

“I’ll make sure we get some more of the good stuff tomorrow,” Arthur promises, and you return his smile with one of your own. “But speakin’ of which, are you comin’ into town with us?”

“Might as well,” you reply with a shrug of your shoulders. “Got some purchases to make that I’ve been putting off anyway. Why?”

“Just wonderin’.” Arthur replies with a shrug of his own, but then he looks away from you and out towards the creek. “I’ve got some extra errands to run tomorrow. I thought you might want to tag along, get out of the camp for a couple days. I notice Buckshot’s been gettin’ a little stir-crazy lately.”

“Isn’t he always?” You scoff, though you can’t help but smile fondly as you think of the young Mustang that you’d acquired over a month ago. That horse was caught from the wild and had been hard as hell to break, but now that you’d earned his trust and loyalty you doubted that you’d ever find a more reliable animal. “But you’re right, Arthur. I think a day or two out of his place will do him some good.”

“It’ll do you some good too,” Arthur says, finally turning his knowing gaze back towards you. “Micah keeps pushin’ you like he’s been doin’ and he’s likely to get himself shot. Wouldn’t mind seein’ that myself but like you said, that ain’t worth all the fuss that would follow.”

“Well aren’t you ever the noble gentleman, Mr. Morgan,” you say, purposefully exaggerating the accent of your voice, and Arthur rolls his eyes but you can still see the smile on his face as he shakes his head and turns away from you again.

“Try to be nice and that’s the thanks I get,” he mutters to himself in a light tone, ignoring your snickers as they die down to let a comfortable silence fall between you.

This far out from camp, the sound of the crickets becomes much more noticeable and for a few minutes the pair of you just sit together, hearing nothing but the chorus of the woods, the steady trickle of the creek, and the soft sound of your own breathing. It's always been peaceful, having no one else but Arthur so close, and you've camped out overnight with a few other members of the gang before but it was never the same. Arthur was just.. Arthur, which seemed to make all the difference.

Eventually, Arthur’s the first one to end the moment by getting to his feet, though he seems oddly reluctant to do so, and he brushes some of the lingering dust off of himself before he looks back at you. “We best go get some rest now. Got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow, so the earlier we head to town the better.”

“Sounds good to me, Arthur,” you reply as he offers you a hand. You accept it despite not needing the help but Arthur pulls you up much quicker than you had anticipated and you nearly stumble forward, just barely managing to catching yourself before you collide with his chest.

You straighten up, blinking when your gazes meet. There’s now only an inch or so of space between the two of you and even Arthur looks surprised by the sudden proximity. He doesn’t move away, however, and neither do you, and it’s only when you become aware of the warmth of his hands do you realize that he’d reached out to grasp your waist, most likely in his own sudden efforts to keep you from falling over.

“Um.. Sorry about that.” Arthur eventually speaks up, and beneath the thick stubble and layer of dirt you think you actually see a hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks, though it’s hard to tell with nothing but the moonlight on you. “You okay?”

“No worse for wear, cowboy,” you reply, trying to lighten the mood and keep your head clear when you physically feel the tension mounting between you two. Arthur just gives you a quick nod, his gaze then dropping down from your eyes to your lips, and you don’t know who leans forward first but suddenly the remaining distance between you is all but gone, your noses briefly bumping together and his warm breath mingles with yours as you both then hesitate. His lips are only a fraction away from your own now..

You feel one of Arthur’s hands grip your waist a little harder, his breath coming out rough as he seems to inwardly fight against something and then, finally, you feel the faintest brush of his lips on your own. Your eyes slide shut as one of your longest-lived fantasies starts to become a reality, heartbeat quickening as-

“Arthur!”

You gasp and jump apart like an electric shock had gone through you, and for a moment you both just stare at each other before Arthur suddenly growls, his expression changing into one of annoyance as he looks back towards the source of the sudden noise. You hear the footsteps of someone approaching. “What?!”

“Dutch is lookin’ for ya!” Kieran strides into view a few seconds later, his expression neutral until he actually catches sight of Arthur’s face. You see his gaze go from Arthur to you, and you know you’re just standing there, annoyed, frustrated, and wondering if your blush is as visible as it feels.

Kieran’s brow furrows, the pieces seeming to click into place for him, and he suddenly looks wary about how close he's standing to Arthur, if the obvious step back he takes from the other man is any indication. “He, uh.. He said it was urgent. Somethin' about one of your missions tomorrow..”

“Tell him I’m comin’!” Arthur snaps, his tone sending Kieran quickly on his way and a part of you almost feels bad. Kieran always seemed like a nice enough kid after all, but in this moment he’s magically taken Micah’s place as your least favorite member of the gang.

Despite his words Arthur doesn’t move, now looking as frustrated and flustered as you still feel but he doesn’t move any closer to you either. You try not to sigh, all earlier excitement cooling into resignation. Arthur was far from a tactile man and with him, a ruined moment was just that. Ruined.

“Better go and see what Dutch wants,” you finally speak up. The moment’s gone now but you’d rather not deal with any sudden awkwardness before bed. Things had never really been awkward between you and Arthur before but now.. Now they just might be, thanks to Kieran’s unfortunate and piss-poor timing. “Think I’ll head to bed now..”

Arthur just nods to let you know that he’d heard you and you inwardly sigh again as you walk past him to take the worn path back up to the camp, hoping that Micah is asleep because now you were _definitely_ not in the mood to put up with his bullshit. But you only get a few yards away before Arthur calls out your name, and you can hear his rapid footsteps approaching as you turn to look back at him.

“Yea-?” The word hasn’t completely left your mouth before they're suddenly cut off by the pressure of Arthur’s lips against your own, and you can’t help the soft gasp that leaves you. Your hands reach up to grasp at his shoulders out of instinct, wondering if this is real or some sort of desire-induced hallucination. But his body is warm and sturdy beneath your grip, and it takes you only a moment to snap out of your stupor before you relax, eyes sliding shut once more.

This.. feels so good. So right. The sensation of Arthur kissing you is even better than you had imagined, and your heartbeat starts to quicken again as you both lean into each other at the same time. His hands find your waist again, holding you so close, and you move your palms up to cup his face, thumbs brushing against his stubbled cheeks and he leans into your touch even more.

His lips are so warm, soft and almost hesitant but you're just as eager as he is, and Arthur lets out a low hum of satisfaction that sends a shiver down your spine before you finally have to break away from each other, breathing deeply. It takes a moment for you to actually open your eyes again and when you do Arthur looks as dumbstruck as you feel, with a dazed look in his own eyes but there’s no mistaking the smile on his face. It makes your already pounding heart flutter pleasantly.

“I’m sorry if that was too forward of me,” Arthur finally says. He's still a little breathless and his voice has a rougher edge now that it already did, and you never thought that that was something you could be turned on by. “I just.. I didn’t know if I’d have the guts to do that later.”

He looks nervous now, almost scared like he was expecting you to suddenly bolt away from him in spite of the fact that you’d definitely been kissing him back, but the tension in his body lessens when you give him a warm smile and even lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek that seems to steal away the breath he’d just started to regain.

“Maybe you should be more forward from now on, Mr. Morgan,” you say, a playful yet suggestive tone in your voice, and Arthur starts to pull you close again in want but then he swears loudly when Dutch’s voice is the one to cut through the air this time, calling for you both now, but his anger seems to fade after you press another kiss to his cheek, and then a quick peck to his lips. He leans in for another as you draw back but then you pull out of his grip completely, gesturing for him to follow you back to camp.

“You’re a damn tease.” Arthur accuses in a light-hearted tone, smiling at the sound of your laughter as the two of you head back to camp together. You don’t take his hand - something tells you he’s not ready for that kind of attention or questions from the rest of the gang just yet – but you’re content enough to just walk beside him, arms occasionally brushing against one another’s. There was that old saying after all, about good things coming to those who waited, and Arthur Morgan’s open affection was nothing if not worth waiting for.

The pair of you head to bed after a quick meeting with Dutch regarding one of Arthur's intended missions, thankful to find that most of the gang is asleep aside from those on watch duty. Arthur walks you to your quarters, pressing one more quick but warm kiss to your cheek before he heads off towards his own tent, and that night you sleep better than you have in a long while, dreaming of the open country and a familiar, scruffy-faced man by your side.

* * *


	2. ..And He Looks Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, due to popular demand, here's the chapter in Arthur's POV - Hope it lives up to expectations!
> 
> But on another note, thanks to everyone for their incredible comments on the first chapter! I'm still working on my individual replies, I'm such a shy dork about talking with people, but please know that I read and appreciate every single one! <3

* * *

He knows he probably shouldn’t try it, but Arthur Morgan still can’t help but wonder if it would be physically satisfying to shoot a drawing.

The idea is a ridiculous one but still so damn tempting, considering how much this sketch is refusing to cooperate with him. He furrows his brow in concentration as he draws out another faint outline of a face, and then immediately shakes his head before he erases it and tries to start all over. It’s more than a little frustrating, honestly. He’s drawn dozens of portraits over the years and he’s never critiqued a single drawing this much.

But maybe that was because he’d never tried to draw you until recently.

It should be easy. He can see the sketch in his mind clear as day, knows exactly what he wants it to look like but then whenever he tries it’s just.. It’s not right. He just can’t seem to get your hair looking the way he wants it too, can’t quite capture that soft crinkle of your eyes when you laughed. He’s even tried different expressions, different angles, and he’s torn more failed sketches out of his journal than he cares to admit.

Sure, he’s never really liked most of his own drawings despite the way you praised them anyway, but his continued failure to do your likeness justice makes him particularly resentful towards his alleged ‘talents’.

Arthur sighs, setting his pencil down in the crevice of the pages and then pinches at the bridge of his nose. He still doesn’t like this sketch, but it's not as bad as some of his other recent attempts and maybe he’ll have more luck if he tried again after getting some sleep. He’d just spent the past few days running every which way after one of his bounty targets, after all. A good night’s rest might do him wonders.

He looks out towards the nearby creek, wondering if he should return to the camp now but the soft sound of approaching footsteps makes him perk up, and Arthur peers through the darkness to see a familiar figure coming his way.

Well, speak of the Devil..

“Prick..” He hears you say under your breath, and he watches you lean back against a nearby tree, clearly not having noticed his presence yet. But he takes in your cross expression, the tension in your shoulders, and it’s clear that someone’s gotten you aggravated again. You could give him three guesses but he’d only need the one.

Arthur turns himself towards you, making sure that his clothes rustled just a little so that he didn’t startle you too much, and he bites back a smile when you almost jump at the sound but then relax upon seeing who it is.

“That directed at me?”

“Micah.” Is your answer and Arthur can’t help it as some annoyance bleeds into his own expression. He thought as much, but hearing the confirmation from you just makes his disdain for Micah grow a little more, and that was a notable accomplishment considering how much he already didn’t like that bastard.

“Want me to go kick his ass for you?” He offers, serious as a heart attack, and part of him really wants you to say yes. He’s been itching for a reason to shut that bastard’s mouth lately and riling you up was good enough for him. 

Dutch might scold him afterwards for knocking a member of the gang on their ass like that, but Arthur’s damn near had his fill of hearing the way that Micah talked to you.

Even if he wasn’t sweet on you, you were still as much a member of the gang as everyone else was and you deserved some common decency from Micah at the very least. Arthur knew well that you were no blushing damsel that needed men to jump in on your behalf over every little insult, but that didn’t stop Micah’s words from stirring up his own anger along with yours. He’d happily split his knuckles open on someone’s face if it meant showing you that you had folks on your side, willing to defend your honor.

To his disappointment you turn down his offer of violence but you do walk over to join him, and he sees your gaze dart towards his journal briefly. Normally he’s happy to let you look through it but he thinks about the sketch he just started, the one he doesn’t want you to see until it looks at least as half as good as you do, and he quickly snaps the journal shut before you can get a good look at the page.

If that catches you off guard you don’t say anything, and Arthur feels a small rush of gratitude for it. He loved the gang like family but there was no denying that some of them just didn’t know how to mind their own damn business sometimes. That’s why he kept so much to himself, and hid so many belongings away in a sturdy lockbox but that had never been necessary with you.

That was one of the first things about you that had caught his eye.

After Dutch had agreed to take you in, Arthur had honestly expected you to make a show out of questioning everyone and demanding answers for who they all were and what they did, but you didn’t. Rather, you minded your own business and let the folks around you mind theirs, only ever showing interest in their various histories when they were the ones to bring them up first.

Ironically, he also thinks that might be the reason he started being a little more open with you. 

You were easy to talk to, and a little reserved about your own past but as time went by Arthur found himself confiding in you during long scouting missions, or sharing stories about himself that he’d told few others to pass the time while you skinned and cooked the spoils of your hunting trips.

He doesn’t know when you’d gone from being just another person to talk with into someone he considered a trusted confidante but you had, and soon he'd even found himself seeking your company outside of the various missions that Dutch sent you out on together. He liked settling in close to you during meals, always tagged along whenever you went out to find more wild horses to break and sell, or just sat with you by the campfire as you both drank your morning coffee.

Arthur’s also not sure when those feelings of camaraderie had turned into something a little deeper but apparently many others had noticed it long before he had, if the frequent comments from Karen and Susan were to be believed. Hell, even Uncle had apparently picked up on some things and that was what had actually made Arthur start to worry; if everyone else was seeing it does that mean you were seeing it too?

He hoped not, because you definitely deserved someone better than him. No matter how many folks said it, Arthur knew that he wasn’t a good man. He tried to be an honorable sort, tried to do right by good people when he could but he’d still grown up to be an outlaw, and that wasn't something you could just will away with the occasional good deed. He’s murdered and robbed more people than he can even remember over the years, and then there was also the fact that those years were going by fast.

He was getting old, whether he acted like it or not, and Father Time certainly wasn’t doing him any favors. Plenty of people in his past proved time and again that he was easy to walk away from, and when something like that happened that damn often it had to be because it was true.

Not that he could really blame most of them for leaving. He was an ugly old bastard, riddled with scars and demons and you deserved so much better than what he was. You deserved someone young and spry, someone who could give you a real life full of opportunity and luxury instead of getting by on scraps like he did.

That was no kind of life to burden someone else with. Arthur can’t recall a time that he’s ever been anyone’s first choice, and he certainly hadn’t seen that sad fact changing anytime soon.

But that was all before you came along and had somehow made it hard for him to believe these things as easily as he used to.

He thought he’d accepted years ago that he was doomed to die alone and miserable, but then he let you into his life and you slowly proved that there was still some foolishness left in him after all. You made him want to hope that you saw something in him, as brazen as that seemed.

You seemed to enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed yours, after all, and he’d noticed a long time ago that you were one of the few members of the gang that didn’t stay quiet whenever he’d put himself down. No, you spoke up for him in his own conversations, pointing out little things that you liked about him as if to retaliate, and every time he would just scoff and walk away before you could notice the flush on his cheeks.

It was very flattering, and a little miraculous that you managed to make him feel young and wanted again, and in retrospect he could probably give his own foolishness some of that credit as well.

Arthur breaks away from his thoughts when you start talking to him, asking about his latest bounty hunt and he falls into conversation with you as easily as ever. He puts the journal away and retrieves his flask as you talk, and he still doesn’t care for the Navy Rum that Pearson had given him but it beat having nothing at all.

You on the other hand actually choke on the bitter rum a bit and Arthur laughs at your declaration that, unlike him, you’d rather go without a drink than endure that again.

That comment leads into talks about going into town soon, and Arthur tries not to sound too hopeful when he asks if you’ll be tagging along. He’s got more to do tomorrow aside from the shopping, including scouting out another potential bounty and checking some things out for Hosea, and they’re all things he normally does alone but longing for some company is just one more thing you’ve changed about him.

It doesn’t take too much to convince you to go along, though he does resort to reminding you that it’d probably do you a world of good to get away from Micah and the others for a few days, but mostly he’s just glad to know that you’ll be riding out with him. Having you close made the long days just a little bit easier.

The conversation trails off into silence again but Arthur’s in no hurry to break it after he notices the soft, relaxed look on your face as you listen to the quiet noises of the woods. It’s nice to know that you could be so comfortable around him, even when he’s not saying a word, and he almost wants to kick himself when he eventually gets up but the two of you should probably head back to the camp before someone came looking.

“We best go get some rest now.” He says, and he thinks he sees a flicker of disappointment in your eyes too but maybe he’s just fooling himself there. “Got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow, so the earlier we head to town the better.”

Honestly, Arthur would rather stay out here with you a bit longer but he hadn’t been lying; there was plenty of work for you both to do tomorrow and he has to chase away the temptation to sacrifice an hour or two of sleep just to have you to himself for a little while longer.

“Sounds good to me, Arthur.” You smile at him, and he reaches a hand down to pull you up to your feet.

He doesn’t know if he momentarily forgets his own strength or what but he certainly doesn’t mean to pull you up so quickly, especially when it sends you staggering forward until you collide with him. Arthur quickly reaches out, his hands landing on your hips as he tries to steady you.

Just like that there’s only mere inches between you and him, and Arthur blinks at the realization of just how close you are. He can feel the warmth of your body, hear the soft hitch in your breath as you stare at him, and surely you can feel his hands on you but you’re not moving away. You’re just staring at him with something in your eyes that he wants to believe is the same longing that he feels in his chest.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but in that moment he starts to believe that he might not be the only fool here.

“Um.. Sorry about that,” Arthur apologizes as he holds your gaze and then he prays that you don’t notice anything when he feels his face starting to heat up. He curses himself inwardly for that; he’s too old to be blushing like a damn schoolgirl over something as casual as this but once again, that’s just one more thing you bring out of him whether he likes it or not. “You okay?”

“No worse for wear, cowboy.” You say and he can’t help but look down towards your lips, and they’ve always seemed so plump and inviting to him before but there’s something changing between you two, something he swears he can physically feel and then suddenly the distance between you is even shorter.

He doesn’t know who moves first but you’re both leaning in and Arthur knows that he shouldn’t be doing this. He needs to be walking away instead of deluding himself into thinking that he could be worthy of you but you’re so close to him right now, your lips just a breath away from his own.

Damn it. He can’t stop himself from leaning forward anymore and his heart is hammering as he feels that first light brush of your mouth against his-

“Arthur!”

You pull away from him sharply at the unexpected noise and Arthur blinks, momentarily dumbstruck by the sudden turn of events.

Had someone really just..?

He stares at you for a moment before he growls, a surge of frustration shooting through him as he whirls around to see who the hell was interrupting. “What?!”

It’s Kieran. Of course it is, because Kieran had saved his life fairly recently and that means that Arthur can't just shoot him for this, but oh, the temptation is so strong.

He glares at the young man as he comes in to report that Dutch was looking for him, and he does take a little satisfaction in the way that Kieran tries to slink away, finally realizing that his presence was far from wanted right now, and a petty part of Arthur blames Dutch for ruining this too.

“Tell him I’m comin’!” Arthur snaps back at Kieran, who nods and nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to get away.

“Better go and see what Dutch wants.” Arthur tries not to sigh when he hears you but disappointment settles low and heavy in his gut. You were leaving, which meant that the moment must’ve been spoiled for you, and maybe that boldness from before is slipping away but that doesn’t mean he wants you to go. “Think I’ll head to bed now..”

He nods, not having the nerve to look at you yet, but he also doesn’t want things to just end like this. He doesn’t want you to walk away, not from him, because damn it all he’d finally had the perfect moment that he’d been waiting weeks for. 

He listens to the sound of your footsteps as you walk away and Arthur frowns, flexing his hands and he feels his heart starting to thump in his chest. It's already taken him so damn long to work up the courage to try and pursue something with you just this once, and if you leave now he doesn’t know that he’ll ever get it back.

Arthur calls out your name before he can stop himself, quickly striding forward to close the distance between you and you’ve barely managed to turn around to face him before he leans in again, his eyes instinctively sliding shut when he presses his lips against yours, and it had only been moments ago but he feels like he’s been denying himself this kiss for years.

Wait a second.. _He was kissing you?_

…Shit.

He hadn’t meant to do that. He’d intended to just talk, to try and salvage the moment you’d shared before it was lost forever but he’s kissing you instead and he waits for you to pull away, to give him the slap he deserves before you storm back to the camp. He feels you grab his shoulders, probably to shove him off but a second passes, then another, and then, to his disbelief, Arthur feels you starting to kiss him back.

_Is he not imagining this? Or are you actually kissing him back..?_

His heart thumps a little harder and before now he thought he was too bitter, too world-weary to ever feel ‘love struck’ over someone again but in that blissful instant he feels a surge of it, filling his body with an amazing, scorching heat that he’d never thought he’d know again, not after the losses and heartbreaks that he’s left in the past.

He reaches out towards you again, grasping your waist almost hesitantly to try and pull you in a little closer and then he feels your hand against his cheek. It's so soft and warm compared to his own rough, stubbled skin but still he leans into your touch happily.

This feels.. Well, he feels a bit like a sap for saying it but this feels so damn perfect, with your lips fitting so wonderfully against his own, and he thinks he could stay like this with you forever before the need to breathe is what finally breaks you apart. 

You open your eyes a few seconds after he does and Arthur smiles at the dazed look on your face. The soft blush spread across your cheeks is too damn adorable and he wonders if he's in a similar state. He certainly feels like he is..

“I’m sorry if that was too forward of me,” Arthur says because the silence is comfortable but he feels like he needs to say something, needs to explain himself before the heat of the moment wears off and you realize that you’d just made a mistake in kissing a bastard like him. “I just.. I didn’t know if I’d have the guts to do that later.”

The doubt starts to creep back in. He doesn’t want to, but he still feels himself starting to recoil a little from your touch as the fear that you’re going to walk away now starts to grow. It wouldn’t be like you to just curse him and storm off after something like this but then again it wasn’t like him to just walk up and kiss someone he’d spent weeks pining for, so who knows what the next few seconds would bring.

But the next few seconds bring nothing but a warm smile from you and Arthur feels some of his worries start to melt away when you lean in to give his cheek a tender kiss, and that warmth in his chest flutters again.

“Maybe you should be more forward from now on, Mr. Morgan.”

Christ, he doesn’t think you have any idea about the power you hold over him with only a few words..

He reaches for you again just before another voice cuts through the night air. It’s Dutch calling this time, and Arthur feels another rush of half-hearted resentment towards him in that moment. But it earns him a couple more quick kisses from you when you notice his irritation, so maybe it's not all bad.

Arthur leads you back to camp and somehow manages to stay focused as the pair of you talk to Dutch, who informs him about some recent O’Driscoll movements that Charles and the others have been noticing lately. 

That news almost makes him want to leave you behind while he goes out to deal with it but he waves away the thought just as quickly as it comes. He might not understand why you were lowering your standards to his level, but he certainly wasn’t going to risk that by suddenly treating you as an incompetent. You were already partners before tonight, and he didn't want that to change just because the context of the word might have.

The rest of the camp is blissfully quiet, with almost everyone asleep by now and Arthur’s grateful for that as he walks you to your tent. He’s not ashamed to be seen with you, quite the opposite in fact, but a part of him still expects to wake up tomorrow and find out this was all a dream. It just feels too fragile to have everyone else suddenly poking into his business, and he doesn’t say any of this out loud but you seem to understand anyway. Just one more little thing he loves about you.

The thought makes him stop just outside of his tent, and Arthur shakes his head with a soft, disbelieving laugh. Against all odds he’d found himself falling in love again, proving once and for all that he really was an old fool. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this, if he even truly did, but like Hell was he going to risk losing this feeling now that he'd finally gotten it back.

He flops back onto his cot to get some rest, and as he tugs his hat down over his eyes, eager to fall asleep and see you again in his dreams, he finds himself admiring you once more.

After all, he didn’t know many folks out there who could so easily steal an outlaw’s heart.   


* * *


End file.
